Vicarious Horror
by Nate The Ape
Summary: It is often said that hearing about a horrific experience can't compare to actually living it. On their way to Skull Island, Hayes shares a survivor's testimony about the isle with Ann, one that makes them both beg to differ...
1. Chapter 1

**Look who's back boys and girls!! #some readers stand up in excitement, others cringe in fear# **

**Among viewers of Jackson's KK, there seems to be a general concensus that First Mate Hayes is right up there with Englehorn and Kong himself as one of the coolest, most badass characters in the movie. I entirely agree. This is why, when glancing over my fics to date, I was a bit puzzled and shocked to see that I hadn't done a story yet which _primarily_ centered on him. Then I remembered there'd been a scene in the galley of the _Venture _where he and Lumpy had gravely told Carl and Preston about how they'd encountered a castaway several years ago while working on another ship. I felt that that poor survivor's tale deserved to be told in full, and that Hayes was just the man to tell it. One thing led to another, and this fanfic was the result!**

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Seemingly carved out of finest Egyptian alabaster, a half moon floated above the tranquil surface of the Red Sea, its light transforming the water into a limitless sheet of polished silver. Churning a furrow across it, softly muttering and strewn with lights of its own, was the Venture, headed for the Gulf of Aden and the Indian Ocean.

Benjamin Parker Hayes generally loved being at the steamer's helm, especially on fantastic nights like this, where there was no one in the wheelhouse but him, the sky, the stars and a calm sea as he held the familiar wood of the tiller and felt the engines throb below his feet. Then too, here in the tropics there was always a warm, pleasantly sultry mantle of air hanging about you, which suited Hayes plenty well.

Tonight though, the engines seemed to pump with all the horrid, maddening insistence of Poe's telltale heart, driving the first mate's own heart rate up to wild new heights, and the luxurious, indolent cloak of tropical warmth seemed suddenly constricting, smothering. It'd been that way for the past eight days, ever since Jimmy had told him about how that arrogant nitwit of a director, Carl Denham, evidently planned not to go to Singapore, but to _Skull Island_ instead!

Very, very few things on God's green earth seriously frightened the first mate. He'd been in the thick of the unspeakable hell called The Great War over in Europe after all, battling both on his feet and in the trenches. Yet now, as it never failed to do, just thinking of the island's name, and the possibility-no, probability-that they might be going there, made Hayes's husky brown body twitch in a quick spasm of fear.

He wasn't the only one ill at ease on the tramp steamer. Although he'd as yet said nothing to his fellow sailors about what Jimmy had told him-it was still too early to tell for absolutely certain what Denham planned to do, and Hayes also knew better than to go yell "Fire!" among his superstitious comrades-that didn't mean Jimmy hadn't brought the subject up to others in conversation. Besides, the subdued, yet heated, arguments between the director and the captain weren't exactly beyond the notice of passerby.

Yes, somehow, someway, the nerve-plucking knowledge was disseminating all through the Venture's crew, like blood from a wound radiates out into a stricken man's shirt fabric. The crew was becoming infected with a psychological malaise, that vertigo of the morale that makes a person, even if in no immediate prospect of danger, feel like he or she has a few dozen crickets skittering around inside their stomach. His fellow crewmembers, normally hard-boiled as could be, had become antsy, spooky as deer, often lost focus now when doing tasks.

Hayes shook his head in frustration. It didn't need to be this way! He and Englehorn had known each other for five years, trusted each other with absolutely anything and everything, including their lives. He knew that if ever there was a man who had both feet on the ground, it was Rudi Englehorn. The German was the one who was unmistakably dominant on this vessel, and everyone agreed that it would be a cold day in hell before he ever acted the minion. Then why, why, was he playing ball for the likes of that loser pig of a director, willingly plunging them into unspeakable danger?

Yes, the last voyage had ended poorly, with the majority of the cargo, whether alive or inanimate, ending up damaged, swiped at various ports, or perishing en route. And then there'd been the fire in the hold…Hayes decided the less he thought about that incident, the better, and shoved it out of his mind. Still, desperate as Englehorn's finances were, there were other ways that they could recoup their losses, and there was no excuse to endanger every single soul on board by going to…well, _that_ place. Hayes jerked again.

He decided to soothe his ever twisting nerves by saying one of his favorite poems out loud. Sea Fever, by John Masefield.

"I must go down to the seas again," he intoned, "to the lonely sea and the sky/ And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by; And the wheel's kick and the wind's song-"

His attention was seized then by the footsteps of another man, casually walking through the wheelhouse door. Looking over a square shoulder, Hayes saw Yuri Ekimov approaching him. In his late-20's, Ekimov's Russian ancestry was evident not just in his surname, but in his brilliant blue eyes, thick brown hair, and pale complexion. Despite his lean appearance, everyone aboard knew that the young sailor was deceptively strong, and not a half bad navigator.

"Say Ben, sorry to interrupt your one-man poetry recital," Yuri joshed in his thick accent, "but it's time for me to come up and take that wheel off your hands."

"Yeah, it's about that time," Hayes confirmed, glancing at his watch. Drawing back from the helm, he gave a vigorous stretch and yawned. "Lord, will it be great to sit down, then sleep," he sighed.

"I'm sure I'll be saying the exact same thing myself in several hours," Ekimov grinned, mustache curving in tandem with his upper lip.

As the young Russian took control of the ship, Hayes asked him, "I understand that you were out there on deck with some of the other fellas while Carl and Herb were doing evening shots of Ann and Bruce."

"_Prademeh_," Yuri confirmed.

"What did they do, if I may ask? Anything really interesting?"

"Well, Carl basically had Ann and Bruce walk together down the deck several times. Then he had Ann looking at the rising moon with a sort of dreamy expression on her face. They also did a scene where Bruce's character pressed his courtship with hers a bit more strongly, and it ended in him getting her to do a simple sort of waltz with him. Now, as for me, I prefer a lady who can do the Barynya or a Russian Quadrille when I'm courting!!"

Hayes lightly smiled in response.

"Anyhow," Yuri finished, "Ann did a great job, and as always looked like a goddess. There's something very special about her indeed," the Russian sighed fondly. Catching himself, he shot Hayes a rather embarrassed look before adding, "But as usual, Baxter overacted somewhat. I don't know why he insists on bringing a macho attitude into nearly every line he says and every single action he performs before the camera," he snorted scornfully.

"I think he's getting a little better as time goes by though. Miss Darrow has a surprising way of keeping him in check from what I've seen."

"That's sure true!" Yuri chuckled.

A swift, knowing smile flashed across Hayes's normally stoic face before he changed the subject.

"Well Yuri, you just keep on holding her on course like you're doing. I'm going to have something to drink in the galley and then jump into my bunk," Hayes told him before turning on his heel and striding out.

"Fair enough," Ekimov grunted. "Goodnight Ben."

The first mate was greeted by the heated, salt-smelling breeze as he plodded out onto the upper deck. Walking to one of the metal ladders that extended down to the main deck, he turned and, demonstrating surprising limberness for such a huge man, climbed down the rungs.

Opening a side door and striding into the hallway, he headed for the galley, where he intended to enjoy a well-needed, relaxing beer in solitude before going to his quarters. Stepping inside, he was surprised to see that he had company. It was Ann, easy on the eye even in a worn rose shirt, sitting at the table with a glass and a bottle of Red Label whiskey, head tilted forward as she ran her sleek fingers rather firmly through her flaxen curls.

It occurred to Hayes in that spilt second that Ann was jittery and troubled herself, and that he'd best retreat before he startled her. But it was too late.

She saw him and jerked upright in her chair with a thin, yelped "Ahh!" of shock, her great cobalt blue eyes widening like an owl's in her peach face.

Remorse rushed through Hayes's body as he apologized, "Oh Gosh Mam-Ann-, I didn't even know you were sitting in here! It's just me, Mr. Hayes."

Ann looked up at him, doubtfully, still tense. Then the strain in her muscles dissipated, and she let out a breath, saying in a protracted sigh, "Thank God. But boy, you could've chosen a better time to drop by on me."

"I'm very sorry for giving you such a fright Mam," Hayes earnestly repeated. "Of course, it doesn't help matters all that much when your skin color helps you blend in with the shadows so well," he wryly added.

Calming down, Ann delicately laughed. "I suppose not!"

Going to the fridge where the beer was kept, his back to Ann as he opened the lid and selected a bottle, he inquired, "So, how are you taking to these beautiful nights on the Red Sea, Miss Darrow?"

"They're grand as grand can be. I never knew how magnificent the stars and the moon could be beyond the city lights," she answered approvingly as he turned back to return to the table, picking a seat across from her. "Every day here brings wonderful new experiences. I'm seeing brand new worlds that I'd read about, but was never truly able to _appreciate_-until now!" she eagerly gushed. "Do you remember for example, how the sea was all pea green yesterday Mr. Hayes? Wasn't that something?"

"A striking sight," he agreed, really more to humor her. He'd seen the ocean in all its hues many times before. Noting the glass of whiskey she was sipping at, Hayes commented in perplexity, "Say, I didn't know you were the type of girl to drink, Miss Darrow," as he opened his own alcoholic beverage.

She gave a fleeting, awkward smile, her top incisors flashing. "I'm generally not. I've been known to enjoy the odd bottle of liquor with friends back in New York though, and I occasionally have a glass or two whenever I'm feeling upset or jittery-like tonight," she added. "But no, I don't exactly have a yen for the stuff."

Her words made a ribbon of suspicion slither into the first mate's mind. _So she most likely knows now too, _he thought.

To test it, he asked, "What's eating you exactly Miss Darrow?"

She looked at him, eyes blank, hesitant. Then, to his bafflement, they became flinty and hard, the pale skin of her brows knitting south in anger. "What's eating me Mr. Hayes?" she repeated, voice taking on an edge. "What's eating me is that Carl Denham is a complete faker!"

"How's that?" he asked, purposefully playing dumb.

"Don't tell me that you, of all people, don't know Mr. Hayes," she skeptically responded, giving him a pointed, sidelong glance.

"Oh, I think I do know Miss Darrow," he grimly replied, feeling the tension welling up inside once more, and a palpable pity that now the angelic woman before him would be forced to share in it too. "But go on."

"That man coaxes me into being his leading lady and going onto this ship by saying that we're all traipsing off to exotic, sunny Singapore. Now I find out from Percy that we're _not_ going there, and we never were to begin with!"

"He's right, unfortunately. Have you confronted Denham about it yet?" Hayes carefully asked her. If this woman was going to take her wrath out on someone, he earnestly hoped that the director, not him, would be the one at the receiving end.

Ann gave a scornful, hate-tinged puff through bared teeth. "Hah, I gave him hell about it!" she spat. "I'd frankly be surprised if you hadn't heard it up in the wheelhouse."

In spite of his own apprehension, Hayes grinned at the image, replying "No actually, but I'd have loved to have seen you doing it. Did you manage to bully any more of the truth out of him?"

"Yes, but it was like pulling _several_ teeth. But I think he's finally leveled with me in regards to what his _real_ plans are, more or less."

"I suppose he told you the name of the…the place where he really wants to film?"

Nibbling her lip, Ann nodded tensely, her gaze now sweeping downward to the wooden tabletop. "He said that just because it was called Skull Island didn't mean it was actually a dangerous place, any more than Cape Fear is frightening or Block Island is covered with building blocks, or that Satan boils his spaghetti in Hell's Kitchen-and so on."

She stopped to take another gulp of scotch.

"But it _does_ spook me anyhow Mr. Hayes! Makes my hair stand on end," she whispered.

"With very good reason Miss Darrow," he said meditatively, speaking more to himself than her.

That piqued her interest. "What do you mean? Have you ever been there?"

"No, I haven't," he admitted, shaking his head. "And I don't know anybody alive who has been. In fact, it hasn't 'officially' been discovered yet, far less placed on the map."

"Then why in the world do you and Carl even think it's real to begin with, especially if you don't have the proof?" Ann puzzled, deeply confused as she attentively searched his face, as if trying to read for additional information.

"Because Miss Darrow, I've heard plenty told about it, here at sea. And just because something isn't on a map or hasn't been seen by Western eyes doesn't mean it isn't there."

"Very true," she slowly nodded.

"But the biggest reason why I'm as certain that it exists as I am of anything…Well, it's because of a rather unsettling experience Bert and I had several years ago on a Norwegian vessel," he revealed.

"Lumpy?" she said in amazement, recognizing the cook's true name. "You and Lumpy _knew_ each other and worked together even _**before**_ coming on the Venture?"

"By a serendipitous chance, we did," he affirmed. "What happened to us seven years ago though, was anything but that. In fact, I really don't think you should hear it Miss Darrow," he warned, feeling uneasy at the very idea and considering taking his leave.

Sometimes though, people just don't know what's best for them. "I can bear it," she confidently assured him. "If we're going there, I need to find out more about this place, no matter how horrid what you have to say is," she implored. "Carl won't tell me Hayes, because I don't think he even knows himself."

Hayes was adamant. "No Miss Darrow, this is something that even many men probably shouldn't hear, far less a sweet girl like you."

The expansive blue eyes rolled wearily in their sockets. "Benjamin Hayes. You don't have to try to shelter me from the ways of the world! I've come across it all before."

"Well, not anything like this mam," Hayes responded, crossing his arms. "I'm going to take this to my cabin now," he announced, gesturing at the bottle, "and for your part, forget I ever said anything about the island."

"For cripes sakes, quit the act Mr. Hayes!" Ann snapped with an unexpected savagery as he began to rise from his seat. "There are times when I think it's sweet for a man to guard me from distress, and times like now when it only annoys me to no end! You _owe_ it to me to tell me what I may be getting into, so I can prepare myself for it!"

The first mate blinked his eyes in something nearing shock at the actress's outburst. He decided he'd rather have her distressed at the secondhand account over being sore at him. With a husky sigh, he sat back down, leaned forward, and meshed his great brown fingers together.

"All right," he told her. "This is the full story, and as true as can be, Miss Darrow."

"All you need to know," he began, "is that in the fall of 26', Lumpy and I were working jobs on a Norwegian barque, or windjammer."

"What exactly is a windjammer?" Ann cut in.

"It's a huge sailing ship, with four tall masts, a wooden deck, and an iron hull, used mainly for transporting cargo. Ours was called the _Sort Sel_, or Black Seal in Norweigan."

"Thanks. I don't know very much about ships, I'm afraid."

"That's OK, Miss Darrow. Anyway," the first mate went on, "on this particular voyage, we were headed to Batavia, near the west tip of Java, with a cargo of grain. It was more or less uneventful as voyages went. When we were eight days away from docking though, a hundred or so miles due west of Sumatra, that all changed…" He hesitantly tapered his account off, looking into Ann's face as he weighed the wisdom of telling her the grim parts.

"Go on Mr. Hayes," she urged eagerly, "and don't you leave anything out."

"Well," he recalled, "even seven years later I can remember the incident clearly. It was a dazzling, hot morning, no clouds, and a slow breeze in our sails. We'd all eaten breakfast and were attending to our duties. Bert was throwing the leftovers off the ship's stern while I was repainting a portion of the deck. Suddenly, we heard Claude Peltier, who was up in the crow's nest at the time, yell out, 'Castaway! Castaway in the water, half a mile to port at two o' clock!'"

"Naturally, I and everyone else dropped what we were doing and rushed to the port side, while the first mate immediately turned the _Sort Sel_ hard to port, heading right for the unfortunate man, who was perched on a crude wooden raft."

"Did that poor fellow see that you were coming to help him?" Ann asked.

"Absolutely. I think in fact, that he saw our ship even before Claude saw him. He was hardly able to do much more than kneel, but he was bouncing up and down and waving his arms, although weakly."

"Anyhow, as our ship approached him, we could see that he'd made a raft, only slightly longer than his body, out of logs and branches, tied together with vines and creepers. There was a sort of stick frame near the head end, to which he'd attached a couple large palm fronds, I guess to protect him from the sun."

"Smart thinking," Ann said approvingly.

Hayes nodded in agreement. "Some crewmembers lowered a lifeboat, paddled out, and brought him aboard. I stayed on the deck myself, but helped hoist him out of the lifeboat when it returned."

He paused, spine tingling at the memory that blossomed once more in his head, like a cankerous bud. "The fellow I helped pull to safety was an Englishman, in his mid-thirties, with sleek red hair and blue, haunted, frightened eyes. By the looks of things, he'd been in the water, drifting and alone, for three or four days. He…he was in truly horrid shape Miss Darrow."

"Oh my goodness," Ann whispered. "To be all alone like that...just waiting to die…I bet he looked like death warmed over after being on that raft for so long."

"You bet he did," Hayes grimly assured her. "Even though he'd had the sense to make a crude sunshade, he was still terribly sunburned, to the point where he had blisters and was beet red. His skin was also chafed raw and bleeding in some places, where his clothing or the logs had been rubbing against it. But the worst he'd suffered at the hands of the sea was dehydration. He'd gone without water long enough that his skin was all wrinkled, his eyes looked hollow, sunken, and he was drifting in and out of delirium. But that was only the half of what he'd suffered."

"Oh my, you mean that he'd gone through even worse Mr. Hayes?" Ann gasped, her fingertips gliding up to her parted lips. "That's already too much for a man to suffer!"

"Yes, he had Miss Darrow. Once on deck, we could see that he had bloody rips in his shirt and trousers, each one a wound that we figured he must've somehow received even before he ended up in the water."

"What sorts of lumps had he taken, Mr. Hayes?" Ann enquired, now a little timorously.

"Well, his left shoulder looked like it had been dislocated with a massive sideways blow from something heavy, yet covered in sharp things as well, then was later popped back into place when he got away. At least, that's what I thought from the way his shirt and his shoulder were all gashed at that place. He also had a sort of big, half-circle bruise across his forearms, and puncture marks in both the top and bottom of it, as if something had grabbed him that way, hard enough to crush the flesh and pierce his skin, but had then released him."

"Each of his lower legs, especially the calf muscles, had been bitten at least four times. I guessed-correctly, as it turned out-whatever caused them was deliberately trying to hamstring him, just like wolves will with a deer. He also had two deep slashes, one right down his back, one over the small of it at an angle. It looked like a tiger had clawed him, except there were just three claw marks instead of five."

"Last of all, there was a sort of glancing stab wound on his right side, like someone had tried to get a knife between his ribs, but they hadn't been in the best position to do it."

"I can't believe he could've been injured so badly and still be able to make a raft, then manage to hang on for days on end at sea in addition to that," Ann responded, voice permeated with incredulous shock. "Those wounds just make me cringe."

"Even more so when you're actually looking at them," he said. "But he still didn't look like he was beyond help though. Four of the crew brought him to the galley, where they placed him on the table so Jens, our ship's doctor, could examine the fellow and treat his wounds. Meanwhile, several of us brought him some food, which he gratefully accepted, and plenty of water. Not surprisingly, he drank it down like a crazy thing."

"I would sure imagine," Ann said. "Did he tell you anything about what had happened to him?"

"Yes, but that came a bit later. After Jens had cleaned and bandaged his wounds, and he'd had enough to drink and eat, he thanked us greatly of course for rescuing him and giving him water, food, and medical attention. He then briefly informed us that his name was Kermit Oxley, that he was from an English village called Swansea, and that he'd escaped from 'the very Devil's island,' as he put it. But he was far too tired to go into more detail, so we found a bunk for him, carried him there, and let him sleep."

"Kermit slept for at least eighteen hours, if I remember right. Now and again, he'd wake up and drink deeply of the water we'd put by his bedside. Like I told you before, he'd gone so long without water that he was suffering periods of delirium, and he had three of those during the first couple hours before the water fully got into his system."

"What did he do or say during those times? Anything especially odd?" Ann asked.

"I didn't see the greater part of them myself, but I would hear him scream and yell in pure terror during those times. Sometimes Kermit would begin rapidly pleading or praying, although I don't think he understood any of what he was saying. If you were in the room with him, he would thrash in the sheets, kick, struggle, punch at the air."

"Besides screaming and pleading, he also gasped out pretty whacko-sounding things about dragons, darkness, fighting with demons, monsters, savages, and so on."

"Really Mr. Hayes? What did you make of that talk? It would scare the daylights out of me," Ann shuddered, "and that's saying something."

"I didn't really know what to dope out from it at the time, actually," the first mate shrugged. "It gave us something of a very unsettling feeling though, like maybe he truly _had_ seen and experienced such things, and that he'd suffered major harm from them. On the other hand though, a man in the state Kermit was in could well see and say practically anything when delirious. So who could tell?"

"Finally though, after a little more than a day had passed, Kermit essentially was back to normal. He could walk and speak okay, took meals in the galley, went out on deck, and seemed healthy-except he still had that strained, troubled, traumatized look in his eyes."

"I don't know exactly why he chose to give us his account so soon. Maybe Kermit felt somehow that he had to warn us, warn everyone, as fast as possible. Perhaps it was because by getting it out into the open, he felt it could release some of the anguish and horror. Or maybe he just wanted it to be his epitaph," the first mate speculated out loud.

"As the sun was just beginning to touch the horizon that afternoon, I was spending some free time fishing off the side when Lumpy and Heru, an Indonesian sailor, came and told me that Kermit had requested for everybody to meet in the galley, because he was going to tell about how he came to be here."

"When we came in, Kermit was seated in a chair, shaved, his red hair combed, wearing fresh clothes. He looked uncertain, yet determined. Everyone else was standing or sitting in front of him. When we were all assembled, he thanked us once more for helping him. Then, he seemed to gather up his courage, and began."

"He told us that before all these events had started, he had been sailing on a British cutter known as the S.S. _Orion_, out of Goa, India, helping to patrol shipping lanes as a lance corporal. He claimed that one of the ships they encountered during their voyage was a fishing vessel from Ceylon. As was standard procedure, they boarded it, to check for any illegal cargo. They didn't find any, but they saw that in his quarters, the ship's captain had several utterly gorgeous turquoise-green pearls, like nothing they'd ever seen. He also had a fur seal skull, and they were all at a loss at how someone whose ship had no reason to leave the northern Indian Ocean had obtained such a thing."

"According to Kermit, the captain claimed that both the stunning pearls and the fur seal skull were gifts from one of his cousins, an experienced pearl diver who had been missing for several months, and was now presumed to be dead. Shortly before he vanished though, the cousin had returned from one voyage and told the captain that he'd stumbled across a craggy jungle island, far out in the ocean, where there were incredible beds of oysters. From them, he'd harvested many pearls, of a color and luster which he'd never seen or imagined. He was known to have gone there twice more, allowing the captain to have a few pearls before selling the rest after the first visit, then giving him the skull of a bull fur seal after the second trip, saying that there were large colonies of these animals on the island's beaches. The third time he went though, he never returned."

"Oh my, that's sure spooky," Ann shivered, eyes flickering with unease.

Hayes nodded, feeling somewhat spooked himself. "Very much so. But all Kermit and his shipmates on the Orion could think about after that was those fabulous pearls, and the valuable seal skins waiting to be harvested. With the barest of directions given by the Ceylonese captain, they headed southward, to find and claim that island."

"They did find it, I'm betting," Ann ventured.

"That's right. Kermit said that around dawn one day, the Orion encountered a thick, huge bank of fog, right in the middle of the ocean. The fog seemed to be obscuring an island, so they carefully went closer. But to their dismay, the fog also turned out to be hiding many rocky reefs and pinnacles too. The Orion's hull was stove in. Within half an hour it sunk, and Kermit was one of only five people to battle through the powerful surf to shore and survive."

Ben Hayes found himself looking not at Ann then, but more through her, past her, as he took another pull at his beer. "At that point," he said distantly, "his story became truly weird, and absolutely chilling. He and his surviving shipmates all managed to find each other, and collected themselves. The area of the coastline that they'd been stranded on was too rocky and dangerous to camp on, so they all headed into the island's jungle. As they walked, they occasionally encountered old, cracked, half broken, strange structures of stone-idols, statues, platforms, temples, houses-that had been built by human beings, but were clearly long abandoned."

"Kermit also attested that as they walked, they often traveled on trails through the jungle that reminded him of the ones deer make in the forest. Those trails though, were so wide that they were more like thoroughfares, with great clawed tracks of various shapes in the mud that he said were as immense as car hoods. Along the way, they saw strange gliding lizards that reminded him of ones that he'd seen in the Dutch East Indies, frogs the size of hares, a feathered lizard, odd parrots that had naked heads and necks like vultures, orb-weaving spiders bigger than your palm, and were harassed by mosquitoes that he said were the size of sparrows. Once they encountered two strange, flightless birds that he said looked like a cross between a Pteranodon and a marabou stork, which peered at them for several seconds before running off into the jungle."

One of Ann's penciled eyebrows rose in a skeptical arch as she lightly cocked her head. "Feathered lizards Mr. Hayes? Enormous clawed tracks and mosquitoes big as sparrows? Sounds to me like either this Kermit was either not nearly as okay as he seemed, or that he sure knew how to tell one helluva convincing tall tale."

"Hey, I know it doesn't make any sense either Miss Darrow," the first mate conceded, "and I halfway felt he was either addled or seriously embellishing his account too. And yet…well, astounding things and creatures are being discovered all the time these days, and he spoke so sincerely that you just _knew_ that he was telling us things just as he'd perceived them."

"At any rate, his group climbed on top of a craggy ridge to get a better look at their surroundings. When they did, they laid eyes on a huge, jagged section of stone wall near the bottom that Kermit said was a hundred feet high, and in contrast to the other ruins they'd seen, looked as sturdy as it had been on the day it was completed centuries ago, winding off into the distance on both sides of his vision."

"Hmm. Sounds an awful lot like the Great Wall of China to me," Ann said thoughtfully. "Even I know that the Chinese made that to keep out invaders, and it sounds like that huge wall was probably made for the same reason too, I'm guessing."

"Right on the money Miss Darrow," Hayes said, pleased with her deduction abilities. "Kermit told us that they'd all had the same impression too. At that point though, one of the men in their group, Russell Fletcher, saw several faint plumes of smoke rising into the air, more or less to the southwest. That meant other people were here on the island with them, and they decided to head in that direction. They couldn't get over or through the great wall though, so they were forced to just walk alongside it for a few minutes. To their good luck however, they soon discovered what seemed to have been an ancient drainage channel that had been carved into the bottom, and slipped through it in single file, out into the jungle on the other side."

At that, Hayes couldn't help but halt, and fidget involuntarily.

"Then what happened to Kermit, Russell, and the others, Hayes?" Ann excitedly prodded.

"That was the point when things got really ugly and scary for them, Miss Darrow," Hayes informed her. "Make no mistake, this part of it will hurt. It even left _us_ speechless, which is saying something for sailors," he pointed out.

"Just keep on like you're doing Mr. Hayes," Ann impatiently urged. "Don't think you have to protect me somehow."

After taking a deep breath and a swallow of beer, Hayes continued, "Kermit said that shortly after they'd gotten under the wall, they came into a clearing where they saw a herd of huge animals. As for what kind they were-well, he told us himself that he knew that he'd seem as mad as a March hare, crazy as a loon to say this. 'But I swear on the very lives of my blessed mum and my father, and the Holy Scriptures themselves, good chaps,' he proclaimed, 'that this is the cold hard truth about what we saw in that field. There was a whole herd of duckbilled dinosaurs before us, grazing like cattle.'"

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Watch for Chapter Two, the concluding chapter, at a later date. And of course, let me know what you thought!


	2. Chapter 2

At that, Ann, who'd been raising her glass of whiskey to her lips for another sip, put it down hard enough to make some of the scotch splash out onto the table. Heedless, her mouth dropped open as she half-cried in astonishment, "_Dinosaurs_, Benjamin Hayes!! You're saying that he claimed to have seen living _**dinosaurs**_, animals extinct for six million years, on that island? That's _**impossible**_!"

"Shhhh!!" the first mate hurriedly urged. "Remember Miss Darrow, most of the fellas on this ship are _sleeping _right now, so keep it down mam," he implored.

"I'm sorry Hayes," Ann said sheepishly, lowering the pitch of her voice as her ivory cheeks flushed rose with pure embarrassment. "Forgive me. It's just that Kermit couldn't have seriously meant such an unbelievable thing, that he saw _live_ duckbill dinosaurs."

"We were pretty darn speechless and in disbelief ourselves Miss Darrow," Hayes acknowledged. "But again, he really seemed like he was being square with us, and had sworn up and down that it was true. And when Kermit told us then how he'd received the slashes to his back…that really got us to thinking."

"Anyhow, he described the dinosaurs as being tan and light brown in color, thirty feet long, with a sort of crest on their heads. They were pos-i-tive-ly dumbfounded, and just stood there for several minutes, watching the animals."

As he spoke, Hayes saw that now Ann's lips were turned up lightly in a smirk of obvious disbelief. She was humoring him though, by not voicing more of the deriding remarks she surely wanted to make, just like he and his fellow crewmen had patiently humored Kermit on the Sort Sel all those years ago.

"Then the dinosaurs became nervous all of a sudden, braying and honking as they began to bunch together. 'Before we could even think of leaving,' Kermit had said, 'the whole lot of them broke into a run and stampeded in our general direction. As they did, these two bloody huge monsters, like green-gray dragons or crocodiles the size of the biggest bull elephant, came thundering out of the trees on two legs, and attacked the duckbill dinosaurs.' They looked like a Tyrannosaurus rex, he claimed, but were even bigger and longer."

"Dragons indeed," Ann softly scoffed to herself, smiling. "A Tyrannosaurus rex, of all things. What horsefeathers. But go on."

"At that point, they ran for all they were worth, going for the thickest cover they could see. Most of the duckbill herd was rushing toward them at an angle, so Kermit and the others didn't have to deal with too many before they could get out of the way. One of the predator dinosaurs though, to their horror, saw them, and gave chase through the jungle, easily running them down. Being military men, they each had a pistol in a hip holster. When the beast caught up, even though they knew it would be hardly more than an ant sting to such an animal, they drew them and fired at it as they continued to run away."

"Although the shots made the dinosaur flinch in pain, it paid them no mind as it lunged at one of the men, who Kermit told us had been named Dick, killing and then eating him in one snap, 'like a titanic crocodile,' he put it. The dinosaur picked up where it'd left off, and chased after them again, even as they continued to shoot at it, managing to force through or get around any trees in its way. It would've gotten at least one more of them, if there hadn't suddenly been this hysterical, even more frantic honking and braying and thrashing from back in the clearing, which meant the beast's partner had just gotten a hold of one of the duckbills. Thankfully for the survivors, the dinosaur attacking them stopped at the rumpus, turned around, and went back, 'pounding away like a walking mountain' as he'd described it, to help in the kill and get its own share."

"If that's true, then that's really sad," Ann said, commiseration tinting her still-skeptical voice. "To be so utterly helpless like that…Poor Dick."

_And poor __**us**__ if Denham succeeds in finding what he's searching for,_ Hayes thought. "Yeah. That'd be rough to go through," he agreed. "They had no time to mourn though, partly because they needed to get outta there first, and partly because things became all the worse too soon."

"I'm thinking more savage beasts attacked them then, right Hayes?" Ann presumed.

"Right on the money Miss Darrow," he confirmed. "Kermit and the other fellas who'd made it continued to rush through the jungle, when they came across a pack of smaller dinosaurs that had been coming in the opposite direction. He described them as being twice as tall as a man, and as long as a trolley-half of that length being a thick, stiff tail-with a curious claw on each foot that seemed like an enormous hawk's talon, sticking up into the air and carried off the ground. They looked like the bigger meat-eater that'd gone after them minutes before, except that they were smaller and more streamlined, and Kermit felt at least, smarter too."

"He told us that he'd had the distinct impression that the smaller, sickle-clawed dinosaurs had heard the sounds of the panicked duckbills, and were charging in to try to gain something from all the confusion. But when the dinosaurs saw Kermit and his buddies, they decided to attack them instead."

"Was that how Kermit received those horrid wounds on his back?"

Hayes gravely nodded. "When the sickle-clawed dinosaurs went for them, they drew their pistols and started shooting. This time, although the animals were the size of prize bulls, they managed to kill some, or at least make other pack members break off. Still, it was a running battle, and the pack of smaller meat-eaters killed two more sailors, named Russell and Bernard. Kermit told us that instead of killing them with their teeth, the dinosaurs used the strange claws on their feet to slice them to ribbons."

"Oh my God!" Ann half groaned in horror, mouth gaping. Regaining her composure somewhat, she then asked, "But how did Kermit get away from those things?"

"Well, as he'd told us before, the island was very craggy and warped. Also, by this time a lot of the pack had either given up after being wounded, or were-uh, busy eating, including their own dead," he said, causing Ann's sleek rose lips to pull back in a grimace of abhorred disgust.

"Still," the first mate went on, "several of the reptiles were chasing him, and he was desperately looking for a cave in the rock where he could take shelter. Suddenly, he heard another sailor, Oliver, call out to him from nearby. Kermit looked in that direction, and saw Oliver gesturing to him from a cave too narrow for the sickle-clawed dinosaurs to get into."

"Kermit turned and ran for it, but just as he got close, he felt three claws, like huge razors, as he put it, hook into the flesh of his side and slash across the small of his back, almost to the bone. He felt that what saved him was that the animal that caught him was young, and didn't fully have the knack for killing yet. Anyhow, the pain made him immediately kick out backward as he was shoved to the ground, and by chance, his feet knocked the dinosaur's own out from under it, so that it fell over."

"Kermit got up first, grabbing a big rock as he did so. When the young dinosaur got over its surprise, rose, and came at him a second time, he smashed it in the face, hard as he could, shouting at it all the while. It evidently didn't like that one bit-as one may imagine-and backed off, shaking its head and blinking, buying him some time. One of the tools of Kermit's trade was a combat knife, a Sheffield blade Bowie that he carried in a sheath on his hip, and he felt that he stood a sporting chance of warding off his attacker with it this time."

"All the same, that didn't prevent Kermit from making a run for the cave. He and the dinosaur played an awful game where every time he turned his back on it and ran, it would warily go for him, and then he'd have to turn, yell, and stand his ground, slashing at it with his combat knife."

"The first time this happened, the dinosaur absolutely wasn't joking around. So Kermit drew his knife, and slashed deep into its muzzle as it went for his throat. After being taught such a nasty lesson, it gave that blade respect, and kept just out of its reach."

"For that poor fella's sake, thank Christ that the beast learned it," Ann said with a grim sigh. "If it's true," she amended.

Hayes nodded. "This happened a few times, until he got close enough to the cave to make one final dash. It was at this point, seeing this was its final chance to get him, that the dinosaur flicked out its arm and slashed him right down the back as he threw himself over a lip of stone, trying to haul him down. Kermit put his heel in the animal's face with all his might, and it let go as Oliver helped him get inside the cave."

"Sorry to interrupt Mr. Hayes," Ann cut in, "but I know that you've helped with capturing and transporting all sorts of wild animals before. Couldn't the wounds on his back have come from a tiger or some other animal instead? If he'd been delirious before, he could've forgotten which animal actually attacked him and just _thought _in his own addled mind that a dinosaur had done it," she cautioned.

"Well, first of all Miss Darrow, we usually simply transport the animals that other fellas capture on their own. Still, I've been on a few expeditions to 'bring em' back alive,'" he joked, "and I've seen plenty of people with claw wounds or scars they received when they got too close to some big carnivore-lions, bears, jaguars, tigers, leopards, pumas. The shape of Kermit's back wounds didn't fit with the claws of any bear or cat I've ever seen Miss Darrow. They looked somewhat like they'd come from an eagle-but that eagle would have to be at least as big as a pony and have sharp cutting edges to its talons, which is frankly impossible," he pointed out, Ann hesitantly nodding in agreement.

"As for replacing a tiger or leopard with a dinosaur in his delirious state, I don't think that's likely either," he thoughtfully said, looking down into his beer. "I've seen many people I've worked with be gripped by fever to the point of becoming delirious at one point or another you know. When or if they recovered, they were always able to honestly tell us events shortly before the fever made them all addled, even things that happened when they were in its early stages. So me, I take Kermit's explanation of a dinosaur wounding him at face value. I have no other option," the first mate pragmatically shrugged. _Sure wish I did though._

"I suppose, hard as it is to believe, I'll take your word for it too then," Ann conceded, unknowingly mimicking his gesture with a shrug of her own, daintier shoulders. "After all, you saw the evidence and I didn't. But what happened next after the animal slashed him?"

"Even in his terrible pain, seriously bleeding, Kermit saw that Oliver too, had suffered wounds, having been slashed across the top of his left shoulder. Inside the cave, there were dead leaves that had been blown in, and they used them to apply pressure to their wounds as best they could, while a few of the sickle-clawed dinosaurs investigated and clawed at the entrance, still eager to get at them and excited by the scent of blood. They gave up after about ten minutes though, and went away."

"Now both of them faced an awful dilemma. As members of the British Armed Forces, they were no weaklings of course, and could go through a lot of pain. Their wounds were still badly bleeding though, and they had to tend to them as best and as fast as possible. But to do that, they'd have to leave the shelter of the cave, and go out into the jungle, where the sickle-clawed dinosaurs could be laying in wait."

"What about their pistols, Mr. Hayes?" Ann pointed out. "Surely that would've given them some protection, and been better than nothing."

"It would've," the first mate agreed, "if they hadn't used most of their bullets already. But they both screwed up their courage, and took their chances, staggering out. To their great relief, all the surviving dinosaurs were gone. Kermit and Oliver caked mud over their wounds, put more decaying leaves over that, and used bits of vine to secure the crude compresses. They got the bleeding under control, and then both headed back the short distance to the cave, where they slept for a time-Kermit told us he had no idea no long, but he felt it was at least a day."

"When he woke, it was raining hard outside the cave. As sore and stiff as he was from his wounds, Kermit was also very thirsty. He woke Oliver, and they collected rainwater in their hands as it streamed off the upper lip of the cave, drinking and drinking until they were refreshed. At that point, they talked about what they should do next. Both of them agreed that if, as the smoke suggested, people lived on this island, then they should do their utmost to reach it."

"Kermit though, told us that he'd been in favor of saying where they were for a few days, until they healed more, or at least waiting until the rain stopped gushing down. Oliver though, argued that their flesh wounds could get infected during that time, and that they had the strength to go just a couple more miles more. Plus, with the rain coming down so hard, the dangerous animals would be lying low or unable to smell or hear them, so now was the best time to try for it."

"Eventually, Oliver managed to persuade Kermit, and they both struck out into the driving rain together, plodding and climbing in what they hoped what was the right direction. With the way the rain was pouring, their compresses of mud and leaves got washed off of course, but they'd served their purpose by then."

"Luck was with them as they walked, and they more or less kept heading in the right direction, towards what they thought was safety. As they got ever closer, the rain came to a stop. Still, they didn't encounter any dangerous creatures, although Kermit attested that they'd seen a 'bloody huge centipede,' another flightless bird that looked like a cross between an emu and a hornbill, and a dinosaur that he described as being similar to a Brontosaurus, but had big spikes along its throat and its spine, with thick chunks of bone covering its back, hips, shoulders and upper tail that he said were like white cobblestones."

"Along the way, they came across a marsh in the jungle, which seemed to be an inlet from a lake or river and about three feet deep. Kermit said that there were especially huge amounts of the giant mosquitoes here, so many that they would drive you stark mad, backswimmers two inches long, and dragonflies as large as ducks. After crossing it, Kermit kneeled at the side of the water with Oliver, and they began to rinse off their wounds. He confessed that they should've known better."

"And that was the moment when the poor fellas got attacked by yet another vicious monster, if I'm guessing right." Ann volunteered.

"That's what Kermit told us," Hayes indirectly confirmed. "He only saw the eyes first. Then, what he described as being like a mammoth, tawny brown salamander, ten feet long and with a skull shaped like a cross between an arrowhead and a boomerang, lunged out of the water and clamped down on his arms with teeth like needles."

"He screamed, and managed to get to his feet, pulling backward as the gigantic salamander creature tried to pull him into the water. Like I told you before, Kermit had his trench knife on him, and he would've used it, but there was no way he could've wielded it in a situation like that. It seemed he was done for."

"But Oliver came then with his pistol, and shot Kermit's attacker in the head. The bone of its skull was so thick however, that the bullet actually _ricocheted_ off of it, only damaging the flesh and knocking out a chip of bone."

"Oh my, now _that_ sounds like a creature who's truly thick-skulled indeed!" Ann half-jokingly quipped in surprise.

"To say the least," Hayes agreed, appreciating the needed humor in the grim conversation. "On top of that, the water slowed down Oliver's bullet, further reducing the damage. But, combined with Kermit's own powerful struggling, it was enough to make the huge arrow-headed salamander decide that trying to kill him wasn't such a good idea after all. So it released his arms, and disappeared back into the water."

"Well, that explains the huge ringlike bruise on his arms then," Ann said. "But what about those other wounds you say he had on him?"

"I'm getting to that," Hayes answered, taking another swallow of beer. "Naturally, Kermit and Oliver fled from the marsh after the salamander beast had let go, running for the human settlement that they knew wasn't far away now. But there was one more awful encounter in the cards for them. As they ran down an animal trail, something burst out of a thicket at them, mouth open. Kermit told us that the animal had been a massive crocodile-but not like any mugger or saltwater crocodile that he'd ever seen in India. This crocodile was stockier, with legs that were packed with muscles and tucked completely under its body, like a buffalo or tiger's are, bigger eyes that faced forward, and jaws that were short and blunt and thick, almost like a bull terrier's."

"It charged them faster than they ever could've imagined a crocodile to run, and they were forced to use the last of their bullets on it."

"Did they manage to kill that nasty thing?" Ann inquired.

"Not according to him, but they made sure to aim for its throat and nose as they fired, and managed to turn it away with those well-placed shots."

"They climbed on top of a hill soon after, and saw they were close enough to this village now to actually see the general site of each fire. It at this point they also noticed that there was another section of enormous wall, separating what looked like a sort of coastal village from the jungle. From the hill, both men could see there were several areas near the wall where the trees in the jungle had been cleared, evidently to serve as gardens."

"They struck out down the hill and headed for the closest one. When they reached it, they saw that it was full of delicious fruit-bananas, sweet potatoes, lichees, mangos, starfruit, yams, jackfruit, and rambutans. There weren't any people that they could see in the garden, which Kermit said was fairly big, and although they knew it was stealing, they picked and ate some of the fruit as they searched through it."

"Not that there's any shame in doing that when you're terribly hungry though, as they certainly must've been-and as I can attest from experience," Ann knowingly added.

"Hey, I'm not judging either," Hayes gently protested. "Would've done the same thing myself in their shoes. Suddenly then, they encountered four native women walking down a trail into the garden, carrying tools to work the earth."

"Native women," Ann repeated thoughtfully. "What did he say they looked like?"

"Kermit described them as having gray-black skin, like that of an Australian Aborigine, with long, wavy, black hair. They wore simple garments around their hips made out of human hair, coconut fibers, and long, downy feathers, probably from the flightless birds he'd seen on the island. They had a look to them that he found quite unnerving, 'as if they were more she-wolf than woman, always on the defensive and yet so harried,' he told us."

"When the women came across them, they all just looked at each other in amazement and confusion for a few seconds. Oliver stepped forward at that point, cheerily greeting them in Malay with his hand extended. He must've overdone it, for all four women spooked, dropped their crude tools, and ran away, back towards their village. They followed them down the trail, trying to explain themselves and assure the women that they were friendly, meant them no harm. Moments later, they stumbled across an even _larger_ garden, almost right up against the great crescent of the wall. Even more of the native women were here, picking fruit and placing it into woven fiber bags. But this garden didn't just contain women and girls."

"A few of the men were standing around too, I'll bet," Ann surmised.

"Um-hm. And a fair number at that," the first mate recounted. "Kermit had a lot of trouble managing to tell us this part, it affected him so much, but he got through it anyhow. First, he said that the native men, if anything, looked even more feral than their women, wiry and extremely muscular, with the same long, unkempt hair. Their ears, nostrils, nasal bridges, mouth corners, lips, and even eyebrows, depending on the individual, were grotesquely pierced with pieces of whittled bone. They really didn't even look like men any longer, but were far closer to demons or hobgoblins in appearance."

"Oh dear lord," Ann replied in soft horror.

"Yes Miss Darrow," Hayes agreed. "Kermit said himself that of all the horrors he'd endured during his ordeal on the island, this was the worst one of all. Do you truly want to hear the whole grisly thing Miss Darrow, or would you like me to be merciful and gloss it over?"

Even though she was quivering in a terrible anticipation, the actress pluckily said, "I've read and heard many awful accounts of the horrors of the Great War, even seen terrible pictures and film of what was done to the poor soldiers. Whatever these savages did to Kermit and his friend, I can make my way through it."

"But you didn't actually _fight_ in the Great War Miss Darrow," Hayes gravely pointed out, "and experience such ghastly things up close and personal."

"Now, tell me this," he went on, voice a low, emotionless baritone. "Can you imagine, Miss Darrow, how vicious and cruel human beings can be?"

Deeply unnerved by the first mate's quietly forceful new demeanor, Ann sucked in a breath of air through her teeth, fidgeting as she did so. "Well…I've seen and heard of many terrible deeds being committed on the city streets-but compared to you Mr. Hayes, I probably can't."

"I can. Lumpy can. Englehorn can too. I even suspect that Carl can. We've all had to face some wicked people, or people who turned wicked because of a desperate situation. What I'm getting at here is that in a place full of monsters like Skull Island, the people there are going to become monsters themselves, and act as such. So brace yourself mam." He couldn't help but notice Ann's Adam's apple pulse in her slender pale throat before she took a breath and motioned for him to go on.

"Kermit told us that the native men had bone knives in hide holsters, and carried great clubs studded with shark's teeth or chunks of obsidian. A few carried crude wooden spears. The four native women they'd frightened in the first garden had reached this one before of course, and a general mood of panic was rapidly starting to develop among the tribe's women and girls."

"Perhaps the native men saw them as a threat for that reason, and decided they weren't in the mood to ask questions. But on the other hand, the sheer sight of strangers in their domain could've made them hot under the collar regardless. Whatever the reason, the men attacked both sailors viciously."

"Kermit wasn't a member of the British Army for nothing of course, and neither was Oliver. They put up a good battle against the savages at first, fists flying and Bowie knives flashing, and gave some 'a thing or two to remember,' as he put it. But they didn't have the numbers or the weapons, and the only real option they had was to fight their way out of the skirmish. As he tried to break away, Kermit was struck a powerful blow from one savage's club, so hard that it popped his shoulder out of its socket, the shark teeth imbedded in it gouging him deeply. The pain was absolutely ghastly, but he struggled on and got out of the worst of it."

"Oliver wasn't as lucky. One of the savages sliced him open like a fish with his bone knife, spilling his insides(and Ann's hands had now leaped up to cover her entire face at those words, as if the gruesome scene was occurring right in front of her and she couldn't bear it), while another crushed his head with a blow from a club. Thankfully, Kermit didn't think that he suffered long."

"As he escaped into the jungle, a few savages were still at his heels. One of them lunged at his back, knife drawn, and tried to get him by the back of his shirt, ready to plunge the blade home. Kermit had the sense to dodge at the last moment though, so that the savage grabbed the _side_ of his shirt instead. He punched the savage right in the face with his good arm as he pulled away, which caused his attacker to stumble as he jabbed at Kermit, so that he only got a flesh wound."

"Then it was Kermit's turn. What he'd seen this man's kinsmen do to Oliver had made him pretty damn sore, and now that knife wound had only made him even angrier. He decided that he could give as he was dealt too, and avenge Oliver in some small way on top of that. While the savage struggled to regain his balance, Kermit proudly told us that he'd grabbed him by his filthy hair with one hand, and seized the man's wrist with the other, crushing it until he felt bones break and his enemy dropped his weapon. Kermit then yanked his attacker's head to the ground as he clutched his own knife in turn, and-well, did to the native what the native had tried to do to him, dealing out some additional 'too-brief neck problems for that bastard to suffer through, with only my bare hands,' as he slyly put it."

"What a brutal thing to do! How awful," Ann deplored, wincing in revulsion, her lips parting in a half-gape and blond ringlets tossing as she whirled her head aside. "And yet…" she said feebly, after a moment or two of consideration, "Well, Lord forgive me for saying this, but there's a part of me that doesn't blame Kermit for avenging his pal in such a fashion."

"You and me both Miss Darrow," the first mate grimly growled, mind traveling back to the trenches of France and Germany. "When I was fighting in Europe ya know, I saw good pals of mine get killed, and-well, they say that two wrongs don't make a right. But sometimes, a man can't help himself, and enjoys getting even in the worst way possible."

"So you took revenge too for some of your buddies who got killed by the Germans, I'm thinking?" Ann nervously squeaked.

A remorseful sigh escaped his thick lips as the sailor intently regarded the bubbles rising through the amber column of beer. "I'm not exactly proud of it. At all," he indirectly admitted.

While the somewhat dismayed actress chewed on that, he leapt back into the castaway's account once more.

"The vengeful deed done, he ran for his life, not even caring about the pain in his shoulder until he was certain that the savages had given up. It was only when he dared to come to a stop and get his breath that he realized how badly the blow had knocked it out of joint. So-well, I don't know how he found the courage and strength to go through it, but he grit his teeth and popped it back into its proper place again," Hayes said, shaking his head in a private combination of disbelief and admiration at the thought of such fortitude as Ann's graceful hands fell away from her brow and cheeks.

_Well, she took __**that **__rather well, _a sarcastic part of Benjamin Hayes silently chided. _Nothing like hearing about a man being brained and eviscerated for a nice little bedtime story, huh buddy?_

"Good Lord, I can only imagine how beastly that pain must've been," Ann gasped in astonishment. "To resocket your own shoulder-unbelievable."

"You bet Miss Darrow. Kermit himself told us that it hurt like one of the torments of hell, and made him scream to make the birds take flight. He dragged himself to a narrow cave nearby, and rested for quite a while, as you could probably imagine. While he recovered from the pain, the deaths of his companions weighed heavily on his mind, and it finally began to register with him how absolutely horrible and monstrous everything about this island was. Even as he mourned them, Kermit realized that he would rather take his chances adrift on the open sea rather than stay on the island. He had to make a raft and leave as soon as possible, or he probably wouldn't last two days before falling victim to some vicious beast or savage."

"Dusk came, and he chose to stay in the small cave for the night, soon falling asleep. It was the middle of the next morning when he woke up, and raining hard. Kermit staggered out of his cave into the jungle, where he drank his fill of rainwater off of leaves, and then removed his shirts and pants, allowing the rain to flush out and bathe his wounds, both old and new."

"After doing that, he went back to the cave and thought some more about his plans for escape. Even though he was badly wounded, stiff and hurting terribly, with a bum shoulder, Kermit felt that he was still in good enough condition to manage to get to the coast, which would be relatively safe. He'd lie back for a time, and build himself a decent raft. Then, when he was healthy enough, he would strike out to sea."

"Despite being slashed, stabbed, clubbed, and bitten on his arms and body, he could still walk and run okay, and had one good arm left to grip and keep his balance with. So he could manage one last trek through the jungle. First though, he had to get an idea of where the coast was and how close he was to it. He was also starving, and needed food."

"When the rain stopped about an hour later, Kermit left the shelter of the cave and searched for fruit, making sure he didn't lose track of where it was. Luckily, he didn't have to go far before coming across a jackfruit tree. He took a ripe one back to his shelter, cut the rind open, and ate as much of it as he could fit into him. Then, Kermit gathered up his courage, and slipped out into the jungle. It still had two more surprises to throw at him though, before he could reach the shore, including a creature that he called 'a monstrous demon-god made flesh."

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Sorry everyone, but it looks like I inadvertantly broke my promise. The next chapter will be the actual conclusion. Until then, enjoy Part 2, then read and review!


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey again everyone. I'm pleased to say that I've finally gotten the third and final-I mean it!-part of this fic complete. Hope you enjoy the thrilling conclusion.**

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"Monstrous demon-god? What in the world did he mean by _that_?" Ann asked quizzically, her angelic head slightly cocked. "I bet he meant yet another huge dinosaur," she guessed.

"Nope, not a dinosaur Miss Darrow," Hayes clarified, shaking his massive fudge brown head. "It was something far stranger and more terrible then that. But that'll come a little later."

"Anyway. As I've told you before, Kermit had been coming across all sorts of ancient ruins on the island, and he kept seeing them every so often as he headed in what he thought was the general direction of the sea. But they were either too short to rise above the trees, or impossible for him to climb with his damaged shoulder. Luckily, Kermit soon discovered a tall, narrow building, which he'd figured had once been some kinda guard tower or observatory. Most importantly for him, it had a complete set of spiraling stairs, easily climbed and even having a stone guardrail."

"Favoring his left shoulder, he worked his way up to a sort of small stone house at the top. Looking out over the trees, he saw there was a sheltered area of the coast where the beaches were sandier, more stable, and not so lashed by waves. It was fairly close to where he was standing, and even with his wounds, Kermit felt he could reach it in two hours-if all went well."

"And I somehow doubt that it did," Ann neutrally surmised. "There's still those calf wounds he got, after all."

"That's right. When Kermit came down the flight of stairs, and approached the bottom, he'd admitted to us that he'd suddenly had this weird feeling, one that gave him the absolute heebie-jeebies. He knew too well that he reeked of blood, and saw that he'd left drops of it all up and down the stairs. He had this vague, nervous sense that something else had come across it while he was taking a look around, doped out that there was an easy meal in the cards, and was waiting nearby in the jungle for him to come down from the tower."

"Kermit halted then, torn between taking his chances by going back out into the jungle, or going back up to the room at the top of the tower, where he'd be relatively safer. He couldn't see or hear that there were any big creatures among the trees, and the underbrush wasn't too dense around that spot."

"So when he got to the bottom of the stairs, he took a few steps away from them, then clapped his hands and shouted 'Hey there!' to see if he could get a reaction from whatever might be waiting for him. Nothing moved or even made a rustle, so Kermit plucked up his courage, and pushed forward, thinking only about getting to the sea."

"That was when the undergrowth came alive with snorts and birdlike whistles, and he was set upon."

"Set upon by what, Mr. Hayes?" the mesmerized vaudevillian inquired, almost desperately.

"Well, if I heard Kermit rightly-and I'm by no means certain that I did-he said that of all the beasts he saw during his time on the island, these were the damnedest funny-looking ones."

"Funny ha-ha or funny weird?" Ann feebly offered, trying to push back the viselike grip of grimness and horror that now seemed to permeate the galley.

"Funny weird. He said that they were compact, stocky things, three, four foot long reptiles that looked like some hairless cross between an alligator and a bull terrier, with blue-gray hide and long legs. They were about the size of a bull terrier too, with the same big scales on their backs and flanks that alligators have, short tails, and heads that looked somewhat like an iguana's, but were bulkier. Strangest and most frightening of all though, were their teeth, fierce spikes that jutted out of their jaws at an angle, and intermeshed like fingers."

"Sound kinda like the teeth of an Ela-Elas-Elasmah-Oh Gosh, I can't remember the name now for the life of me," Ann helplessly groped, shaking her head in frustration. "It's some sort of sea reptile they have at the Museum of Natural History, which looks almost like a cross between a huge python and a sea turtle. Do you have any idea what I'm talking about Mr. Hayes?" Ann hopefully inquired.

"I do Miss Darrow, and it's called an Elasmosaurus."

"Yeah, that's it!" Ann cried in delight, pointing at him. "Thanks so much Hayes."

"You're very welcome. But back to Kermit. He'd said that a whole pack of the creatures, 6 or 7 of them, rushed out at him 'like hounds after a boar.' He admitted that he lost his head, and instead of putting up a bold front, he ran through the jungle in no particular direction, the terrier-crocodiles slashing at his heels. They bit again and again at his legs and calves, trying to cripple him and haul him down. Often, their teeth only snagged the loose cloth of his pants, and didn't even break skin. Still, they found flesh sometimes."

"Didn't it ever occur to Kermit to use his knife on them?"

"It did, but at the same time, he didn't dare grab it and bend down to stab one. Otherwise, one of the terrier-crocodiles could grab him by the neck or by an arm, yank him down to the pack's level, and he'd be finished. Kermit also had no idea if the blade would even pierce their armor at all."

"As he ran, Kermit kicked back at them like a horse, sending the creatures sprawling. Sometimes, if one bit into his leg, he'd whack the animal's body against a tree to make it let go. Then, before he even knew what he was doing, he ran right out into a large clearing with a steep slope on the other side, which in turn dropped down into a gorge."

"Now the terrier-crocodiles could deal with him more easily out here, in the open, and Kermit knew he'd made a terrible mistake-maybe his last. One bit deep into his calf and yanked as he tried to kick another in the side, and he tripped, then fell. He immediately pushed up with his arms, their excited snorts and whistles at his ears. One went right for his throat, but before it could bite him, he grabbed it by the hind legs with one hand and flung it over his back, causing it to land on two of its fellows and scattering the rest for a few moments."

"Kermit used that chance to jump back to his feet and start to run. But then the pack of reptiles was at him again. They bit deep into the backs of his legs this time, pulling backward and shaking their heads as he tried to pull away or kick them off, fighting to stay on his own two feet. If he managed to send one flying with a kick, another would take its place. He was certain that it was finally all over for him, that they would soon hamstring him like he'd seen wolves do to sambar or wild boar in India. And then it would be curtains."

"How could be possibly have escaped from a situation like that Mr. Hayes?" Ann asked in disbelief. "Surely you'd need nothing short of a miracle."

"Actually, that was exactly what saved Kermit Miss Darrow," the first mate informed her, appreciating the irony. "A miracle-well, in a roundabout sorta way."

"As the terrier-crocodiles tried to yank Kermit off his feet, there was this incredible noise all of a sudden, one that he described as a sort of terrifying '_Wwwrrraaaaaaggghhh!!_' He said the sound had an explosive, surprised quality to it. Naturally, it sure surprised both him and the terrier-crocodiles!"

"Heh, no kidding," Ann dryly commented.

"The snorts and whistles and squeaks they'd constantly been producing during the attack," Hayes went on, "became fearful and nervous at that point. Kermit told us that then, almost like they'd all made an agreement, the creatures attacking him turned, scattered, and raced back into the jungle as fast as their legs could carry them. As they did, another '_Wwwrrraaaaaaggghhh!!_' ripped through the air, followed by the sound of something gigantic beating its chest."

"As much as Kermit wanted to flee himself, he couldn't keep from turning and looking in the direction of the sound. What intrigued him so much about it was that despite mostly having a primal, beastly quality-as you'd expect-there was also something in the deep scream that gave him an impression of intelligence, almost like a furious _man _had made that noise. It was then, on the other side of the gorge, looming above a field of 10-foot tall grass, he saw the great animal that he'd described to us as 'a monstrous demon-god made flesh.'"

"Did he say anything else about what it looked like Mr. Hayes?" Ann prodded. Her cobalt blue eyes were dilated from awe and, the first mate felt, more than a little agitation. They reminded him so much of Jimmy's whenever he became nervous or uncertain. Two innocents heading full speed toward Hell.

Taking another swallow of beer, he responded, "He said that it was a colossal creature, neither beast nor man. The size of a house, it was covered in shaggy black hair, with a 'saddle' of silver hair covering most of its back, and heavily scarred. Kermit said that as he'd turned around to look at the giant beast, it was just finishing pounding its chest and dropped back to all fours. It casually regarded him, and gave a strange sort of barking cough, one that he said sounded almost like it was asking him a question."

"Kermit was so intimidated and shocked by the sight of the beast that he couldn't bring his injured legs to move. It was like nothing that he'd ever dreamed of, and he realized then that _this _was the reason the islanders had built the wall, to guard them from this mixture of brute power and devilish cunning."

"After a few seconds of looking at each other, then the giant 'lowered his head, which was easily the size of a white rhino, down to my level across the cleft. He squeezed his lips tightly together, like a bloke does when he's getting steamed up, and gave me the most horrid, piercing stare from under his brow.'"

"I'm almost embarrassed to say this Mr. Hayes," Ann admitted, obliquely looking at the table's edge as her head shifted back and forth, a Mona Lisa smile on her lips, "but I would've wet myself from fear if in his place."

"And I wouldn't blame you myself," the first mate responded. "Kermit didn't get scared enough to do _that_, but it sure shook him badly, and the huge animal added to his terror seconds later by giving an air-shaking, angry growl, one that he'd said was 'like the biggest damned tiger in the world, except maybe 30 times louder and deeper. Almost like fast approaching thunder really.'"

"As you can probably imagine, even though his legs were torn and Kermit had a gorge between him and that terrifying monster, this suddenly made no difference. He turned, and _flew_ back into the jungle, not all that doubtful that the beast hadn't crossed somehow, and was now right at his back."

"He ran down an animal trail in sheer panic for a short time, completely forgetting which direction he'd originally meant to travel in. When he did calm down and pull himself together, he realized that he'd gone off course. So, using the sun as a guide and moving as best he could with his torn legs, he made his way down through the jungle to the sea."

"Everything went okay for him I assume?" Ann commented.

"Yeah. The only creatures Kermit encountered on his way were another herd of duckbills, some odd flying animals that he said were like flying foxes with huge eyes and the tails of rats, a sort of Stegosaurus, and most curiously of all, a herd of huge wild cattle called gaur, which he'd seen in India many times before. How they could've gotten there, he had no idea."

"He couldn't put into words what a relief it was when, as he stumbled down one last rocky slope, the trees opened up in front of him. He'd reached the sand beach and the sea at last. Kermit had frankly felt like cheering at that moment, and many of us, including me, couldn't help but do it ourselves for him when he got to that point."

"I would've cheered and clapped for that poor man too," Ann ardently agreed. "He went through hell and back, and I'm proud that he managed to survive that long, to make it out of that place. Did anything else happen to Kermit before he built his raft and launched it?"

"Not that he told us," Hayes said. "Kermit made a crude shelter out of stones, logs, and branches, and lived in it for about a week while he rested, healed, and worked on his raft. The beach was relatively safe compared to the rest of the island, and although he sometimes heard some fierce beast cry out rather too close to the shore for his liking, or saw tracks in the sand, Kermit was never threatened by any beast or native during that time."

"As much as it stung his wounds, he found that bathing in the shallows did a lot of good for his healing. It also gave him a chance to catch crabs, lobsters, and octopus. He gathered clams, mussels, oysters, coconuts, and seabird eggs, even catching adult birds sometimes. He caught fish with a handmade fishing pole, a creeper line, and a thorn hook."

"Did he have any means of making fire to cook them, or did he just have to eat them raw?" Ann wondered, displaying her growing weariness with a yawn.

"I'm not sure exactly how he managed, but yeah, he got a fire going to warm himself and cook his food during that time."

"That's good. Seems to me like it would've risked attracting the attention of those terrible natives though, with all that smoke."

"Normally it would've," Hayes replied, "but remember, Kermit was a military man. Now, when I was in the army Miss Darrow, my squad and I were taught that if you're gonna make a fire in an area where you think or know enemy soldiers are around, you should build it up against the base of a tree. That way, the plume of smoke goes up the trunk and is broken up by the branches before it enters the open air. It also helps to burn fuels that produce white smoke, which is harder to pick out against the sky. Kermit knew those things too, and put 'em into practice."

"The day finally came for Kermit when his raft was complete, and he felt okay enough to leave. So he made a leap of faith, poled out into the deep water with a crude paddle, and left that awful Skull Island behind him for good. The rest was days and nights of drifting through the empty ocean, sheltering from the sun as best he could, capturing fish with his handmade pole, and then us coming across him, to make it short and sweet."

"Again, I can barely imagine going through all that suffering, far less surviving it," Ann commented. "At least it was finally over for that poor fellow on your ship though. Speaking of which, did you ever manage to get him back to India or to England?"

"I wish so, but no," the first mate sighed regretfully, gaze returning to his bottle of beer. "When he'd finished telling us about what'd happened to him on the island, he was tired and emotional, as you'd probably expect. He'd relived experiences that he clearly didn't want to-but I personally think that Kermit felt he _had_ to, to warn us, no matter how tough it would be, kinda like I'm doing with you."

"And for better or worse, thank you, awful as it was."

"But to get back to the point. Kermit told us that he wanted to go back to his bunk and sleep some more, since retelling his ordeal had been very hard on him and disturbing. We didn't blame him. Before he did though, many of us heard Kermit ask the ship's head cook, Saul Bjornstad, if he could take one of the knives from the galley to his bunk with him. The reason he gave was that it was for reassurance, because ever since escaping from Skull Island, he always felt like he was being watched and would have to defend himself at any moment. Again, we didn't blame him."

"We should've known better than to allow such a thing. But no one thought there was any harm in it. While I was sleeping soundly that night, some crew members who were on duty or awake at the time reported hearing a terrible, strangled sort of noise from Kermit's bunk. They assumed it was yet another nightmare he was having, and that he'd come round. The next morning, he didn't show up for breakfast, and Matt was sent to go tell him. Suddenly, we all heard Matt scream in horror. I came rushing over with all the others to Kermit's room, and we saw that he'd killed himself with the knife-"

"I knew it," Ann said sickly. "But go on."

"jabbing the blade right through his heart."

"What a tragedy!" Ann bemoaned. "Why would he do such a pointless thing, take his own life after he was _finally_ safe, and headed back to civilized society?"

"That question haunts me too, Miss Darrow," Hayes replied. "I honestly don't know. Kermit might've felt guilty that only he survived when the other fellas didn't, and decided he wasn't worthy of living or should be back with them again. His nightmares and his memories of the island might've been so horrible and so intense that he felt he was better off dead instead of having to relive them over and over again. Maybe he simply just couldn't stand the knowledge that a place like Skull Island even existed at all. But the bottom line is that the place messed Kermit up so badly that he couldn't cope with what it'd done to him."

"What did you do with his body?" Ann asked. "Did you bring it back to India or bury him at sea?"

"We buried Kermit Edward Oxley at sea, with the best military sendoff that we could manage," the former Harlem Hellfighter reverently half-whispered, the vision of the man's shrouded body sliding underneath the aquamarine surface reappearing in his mind. "Our captain telegraphed the sad, strange news to his superiors in Goa, who then relayed it to his family in Swansea. And that was the end of the entire incident."

There was one last decent swallow of beer in the first mate's bottle. He downed it before looking the actress in her great sapphire eyes and grimly, coolly asking, "So Miss Darrow, that is why I don't just think Skull Island exists, I _know_ it does. Are you sorry now that you got me to spill all the beans about it?"

Ann gave a reedy breath, her petite shoulders tense under her shirt. From what Hayes could notice, it seemed like she was smoothly running her hands up and down her thighs, an action that he'd seen her do before when especially nervous.

"Well," she shakily responded, "Yes and no at the same time. I've read about and heard about some very horrible things that have happened to some poor soul, but sweet baby Jesus, nothing as disturbing as that! And to think that we're headed right into the thick of a horror like that…Now I think I know how Marlow might've felt in Heart of Darkness, going up the river into the jungle," she quivered. "I almost wish I hadn't prodded so deeply now," she chastised herself, eyes wandering to her feet.

"That's what you get sometimes for being curious," Hayes pragmatically yet gently admonished her, shrugging his ox shoulders. "You may dig out something you didn't want to find."

"Yeah," Ann agreed. "Yet…I'm still glad you told me anyhow Hayes," she lightly smiled, looking back up at him. "To be forewarned is to be forearmed, right?"

"Absolutely Miss Darrow. Hopefully you can see though, why I and most of the crew desperately hope that Carl…well, doesn't find what he's looking for."

"Hah, all too clearly now," she bluntly muttered. "Sounds like a true green hell to me if there ever was one. All those savage beasts and natives…" A quiver went through her slim frame.

The first mate's lethargy was implacable. He yawned once more.

"Well Miss Darrow," he remarked, "I'm headed to my bunk now. But keep in mind the warning Kermit told us, and that I've now passed on to you. If we have the misfortune to find that island, and you set foot on it, the chances that you won't see New York again are all too good."

"I'll pos-i-tive-ly be thinking about that now, believe me," she solemnly replied.

"Good," the first mate gravely responded as he rose from his chair. Wrapping his massive fingers around the emptied bottle, he strode over to the trash and deposited it inside.

As he walked out of the galley, Hayes paused and turned to look at Ann. Something about her demeanor compelled him to offer some form of reassurance in parting.

"Oh, Ann?"

"Yeah Ben?"

"Whether we find Skull Island or not, and whether you choose to go ashore or not, there's something else you need to know that's even more important than Kermit's awful experiences."

"What's that?"

"Well…There are an awful lot of people on this ship," the first mate divulged, "that like you, that support you, that know you're a special woman, and would do absolutely anything for you at a moment's notice. In fact, I think one man around here might even _love _you," he added, thinking of how he'd noticed Jack's behavior changing dramatically around her as time passed.

Ann was touched. "Thank you Mr. Hayes," she replied, a faint pink coming into her cheeks as she half-bashfully smiled. "That's really sweet of you to tell me that. And I-I like quite a lot of you too."

"You're very welcome. Have a good night Ann Darrow," he fondly dismissed before closing the galley door and walking to his cabin with a commanding, confident gait, partnered with a glowing sense of protectiveness and loyal chivalry. Later, it would send him after her into the most terrible rainforest on earth, where Kermit's demon-god made flesh held sway-and showed no quarter toward intruders.

* * *

Thanks Maran Zelde and RebeccaAnn for your nice reviews of this story! I have this feeling like I should've added a bit more material to that last part, but it may just be my imagination.


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